MOONLIGHT ON WISTERIA
by tudorrose33
Summary: A few months after the war has ended, a new posting to a new hospital changes Grace and Roland's lives for ever.
1. Chapter 1

_This was going to be part of "Homecoming," my set of one-shots, but it seemed worth developing into something longer. I hope you agree. Whilst this chapter is rated "T", the following chapter will definitely be an "M". Chapter 2 will be along within 48 hours as I've got two late finishes coming up. Please let me know what you think and I hope you like it. As always, all rights to the "Crimson Field" and its characters are vested in the BBC. XX _

CHAPTER 1

She drummed her fingers on the arm of the seemingly ancient wooden settle upon which she was seated, waiting interminably to speak to her new commanding officer. The last one had been awful; pompous, arrogant, misogynistic; theirs had been about as far from a good working relationship as it was possible to be. They had clashed alarmingly. Her ideas for improvements in care were not shared. He'd reminded her too much of that plumped up idiot Purbright, who had been hers and Roland's superior.

"Superior in what precisely?" she thought.

Nothing as far as she could recall. It all seemed so long ago now and yet it was not: Field Hospital 25A. It was a part of her life, which she seldom dwelt upon these days. It was too painful. Her spirits did not know whether to soar or plummet as, in her mind's eye she could visualise the familiar paths, duckboard walkways, whitewashed stones, leaky waterproofed tents and rickety timber offices. One in particular she recalled with a mixture of warmth and pain. So many hours spent in there, working, talking and sitting with him, longing for him to touch her, eyes meeting for just that fraction too long, saying so much yet never acting upon the promise within the gaze.

She had been too frightened of losing his friendship and so she had suppressed her natural inclination to reach out and love. He had been too married to initiate anything.

She felt now that she ought to have been less of a coward, have told him how she felt, but she had not and the moment had passed, leaving her apart from the man she loved until she ached with a longing she knew could never be assuaged, their only contact being by post. Not long after she had returned home, she had stopped answering his letters. The hurt was too great. The news of his life, of which she was no longer a part, cut like a knife; shredding the walls she had erected to protect herself. True, he spoke only of his work and occasionally of his son, he never mentioned his wife, but she was still there in the background; a no doubt elegant, expensive subtext to his life, as described in his lengthy missives.

She had loved receiving his letters at first; they had created a sense of shared connection, but she noticed that gradually her reaction to their delivery had changed from eager anticipation to a deep and debilitating sadness, which permeated every day. It had been easier to stop writing back and yet, still the letters came. She had read them, treasured them, kissed his name at the end of their final pages, wept over them, but never replied. His words had conveyed his deep sense of loss and yet she would not communicate save through her nightly tears shed into an unresponsive pillow, when she had allowed herself to say his name, to tell him she loved him and longed for him, and lay on her back while the hot, salty drops ran into her hair, sliding into her ears as her breast heaved with the force of the emotional storm assaulting her. Occasionally, when the longing grew too great, she would let her hands stroke her body and imagine it was him, seeing his face moving to claim her mouth, crying out as the mere thought of his hands on her body was sufficient to push her over the edge.

Her only respite had been work; as ever her faithful companion and the source of the only solace she knew in those months after repatriation. She had made a few new contacts and was familiar with the routines, which offered some comfort and stability as she dealt with the fragmentation of her emotional life. Yet even that was now denied her. A telegram to attend for duty at the West Middlesex Hospital had led to her present situation. She shifted on the unrelentingly hard seat, which creaked alarmingly as she moved, despite her increasingly light weight. Her appetite had never been good, but now she forced the food down, knowing that if she did not do so, she would become ill.

"Oh, come on, you in there. I need to meet my nurses," she inwardly groaned impatiently at the firmly shut door.

She shut the lid on the Pandora's Box of emotions she had unwittingly re-opened as the office door suddenly opened and a young lieutenant emerged.

"Lieutenant Hall-Green, Matron. Sorry to have kept you waiting. He'll see you now. Do go in."

She stood and without a second's hesitation entered the office, looking down to close the door behind her as she did so.

"Matron Carter reporting as requested, Sir," she said, as she struggled with a stiff and troublesome door lock.

"Grace."

The door snapped shut as her eyes shot up and her stomach lurched, turning cartwheels. The warmth and sincerity of the voice was exactly as she recalled it.

"Colonel Brett!"

She was rooted to the spot, her mind a whirl of unresolved emotions.

"Roland, please Grace. I think we are past addressing one another by our rank," he said.

She hesitated, "…Roland, what a wonderful surprise," she could not suppress her smile. "I had no idea. What brings you here?"

"This is my hospital, Grace," his smile matched hers, but there was a sadness behind his eyes.

"I didn't know. What a strange coincidence."

"Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"It would be a coincidence if I hadn't asked for you to be transferred here from your last posting."

"You asked for me? Why?"

"Because I was concerned about your welfare, Grace. I hadn't heard from you in months and I didn't know why. I still don't, but at least I can ask you now."

Her eyes could no longer meet his.

"Please sit down," he said, gesturing to one of two seats by the desk.

She did as he had requested, settling herself slowly and carefully, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the blotter on the tooled leather inset surface. Her mind, by contrast to her calm exterior, was a maelstrom, as powerful emotions fought each other for supremacy and love seemed to be winning. She did not want to look at him for fear her face would betray her feelings and that would never do. He was beyond her reach and likely always would be. There was no point in thinking otherwise. That way lay the distinct prospect of running aground on the rocks of emotional shipwreck. Her throat felt constricted as she considered the turmoil which, during her first months back in England, had accompanied her everywhere; the pain of a lost and unrequited love.

"Grace, I wrote to you. Did you not receive my letters?" he asked as he sat before her.

She could not speak. Every nerve ending in her body cried out as he reached for her hand and said,

"Answer me, please."

"I did, Roland." Her answer was barely above a whisper.

"But you never replied."

"No." Again, a whisper.

"For goodness sake, why not?"

"It's hard to…"

"Grace, this is me. I thought we were friends and yet you ignored me." There was real pain in his voice and it flayed her.

"I didn't know what to say. I wasn't ignoring you. I read every word."

"And?"

She was reeling.

"And it hurt, Roland."

Confusedly he asked, "What do you mean? There was nothing hurtful. All I told you about was what I was doing."

Her gaze was pure anguish as she replied, "That's the point; it was about your life and I'm not a part of it anymore. That's why it hurt."

"Did it never cross your mind that I might feel the same and that by telling you about my life, somehow it made you part of it?"

"Why would I think that? How could I even consider that? You never gave me any inkling of your feelings. Sometimes you would look at me with such warmth and I wondered if you cared, but there was nothing beyond that. Besides that, you're married, Roland. How can I be a meaningful part of your life now we're back home?" She looked at him with eyes betraying her inner pain.

"Touché. Well I'm telling you now, Grace, that you are the most meaningful part of all."

"How so? What is it that you're telling me, Roland?"

"That my life is a damned mess; that I can't get through a single day without you, God in heaven knows that I've tried, for my sake, for my boy's sake, but I'm lost without you." His voice was impassioned as he revealed his own inner struggle.

"Roland, you never said these things before. What is it that you truly feel?"

"Grace, do I have to spell that out for you as well?"

She nodded, unable to say more. He turned his eyes fully on her face, capturing her gaze as he said with searing honesty,

"Grace Carter, you are the love of my life and I am only happy when I'm with you. That is why you are here and that is what I truly feel."

She said nothing in response, but slowly slid to the floor to kneel before his chair, reaching up to take his face between her hands, closing the distance between them, and telling him everything she felt through the gentle movement of her mouth against his. She pulled away slightly, looking at him and then found herself hauled to her feet as he lifted her into his embrace and kissed her with a passionate intensity she had only ever imagined before. All the longing she felt was in her body as she pressed herself tightly against him, not wanting to break her mouth from his, lest he come to his senses, change his mind and this joy be short-lived. Her fears were unfounded as, with difficulty, he broke their kiss and said,

"Oh, Grace, now do you believe how much I love you?"

Finally, she spoke, "Yes; I love you, too, Roland; God forgive me, but I love you, how I love you." She buried her face against the warmth of his throat and kissed it.

"You stupid girl, how could you leave me in a state of not knowing how you were? It broke me, Grace."

"I realised from your letters that you were worried, but I thought you would sooner forget me if I didn't write; that you would think I wasn't worth your efforts."

"Grace Carter, how could you think I would ever give you up?"

"Because I didn't know what you felt, nor that you thought of me as yours. I thought your home life would eventually consume your time and attention, not some nurse you had once known and who seemed to have moved on."

He held her, his hands not quite knowing where to stay so moving constantly against the material of her uniform, as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and seared kisses along her throat.

"You were never 'some nurse'. I've always loved you. I wanted to tell you, but I was too cowardly."

"Why?" her mouth moved along his jawline.

"What can I give you, Grace, except what you see before you? A sad, middle aged man, who had never known what love was until his heart was captured by a woman of such inner and outer beauty that it left him breathless. A woman whose name encapsulated everything he thought of her. A woman he knew he would die for, and whom he hoped loved him, but who would have to sacrifice her reputation and career if he asked her to be his lover. A woman whom he could not marry without exposing her to the salaciousness of the divorce courts, but who was his wife in every way that mattered. I wanted to protect you from all that, from my overwhelming desire for you, and yet, I am a coward, because here I am confessing to the very feelings which could wreak ruin upon your reputation and placing you in a position where you have now owned them and let them take possession of your heart, too. How am I good for you, Grace?"

His hands moved gently, stroking and caressing her face as he spoke, adding a further layer of expression to his words.

"You're good for me because I love you and I always have and if you had given me the slightest encouragement I would have told you so. Life without you is no life; it is unbearable torture. Reputation and career mean nothing without the sad middle aged man I love, who gives me everything I need to live the life I want at his side, for better or worse."

The reality of the love she felt for him made her voice strong. Her mouth flew to his and she stopped it with kisses. He held her as if she might slip his grasp and disappear like some night fey in the mists, which rise at dawn. His hands were on her hair, fingers embedding themselves deep into the silky weight of it.

"I want you, Grace, but I can only have you if you accept that I am still married, albeit unhappily, and that for now, we can only live together as lovers and not as man and wife in the eyes of the law."

"I would accept you on any terms. I have loved you for years," her response was gentle, but made with conviction.

"Grace, I'll divorce, I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

"And if you can't divorce, I'll be yours anyway."

His voice shook with the deep love he felt for her, "I'll live with you Grace, I want nothing and no one but you. We shall be ostracised by polite society, you know."

Smiling, she ran her fingertips along his jawline and kissed him, saying, "I don't care for polite society and I'm hardly a social butterfly who might be bothered by such things. And what of you? You have more to lose than I, who has everything to gain."

"I lose nothing I want. You're all I want and ever have done."

"I'm yours to have." She rested cradled in his arms.

"Grace, I rent a house not far from here in the grounds of Syon Park. It's not much to speak of, but will you make a home with me there?"

"Yes, my love."

He kissed her again. "Pack your things and be ready this evening by 6pm. Wait for me by the entrance to All Saints churchyard at the back of the hospital. I'll collect you and we can drive there."

"I'll be there. I only have one case. Most of my things are still at my home."

"We can get them soon and decide what we do with your house when we're settled."

She smiled at him.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I was just thinking that this is like a dream. A few minutes ago, I was lonely and dejected and yet now, my life has blossomed and here we are discussing living together."

"And tonight…."

"Tonight will be magical."

"Be on time; I've waited for so long."

"I was planning on being early."

She touched his chin with her fingertip and he pressed his hips hard against hers in response. She gasped as she felt his arousal and became aware of the heat she had generated in him.

"Roland," her voice trailed off as he bent his head and passionately kissed her.

"Let me help you with your hair, sweetheart. It's coming unpinned at the back."

She turned and he re-pinned the errant tendrils into their place at the nape of her neck.

"You're good at that," she said.

"I've imagined doing it so many times, Grace."

"And have you imagined anything else?" her voice was husky betraying her growing sense of anticipation.

"Indeed," he breathed into her ear as his tongue traced the edge of the lobe making her shiver. "I want you in my life, in my arms and tonight in my bed, Grace."

Her insides seemed to turn to liquid and the thrill of pleasure which ran along her caused her to pulse with desire. She floated his name on her breath as she held on to him for support so great was her need for him.

"Tonight, my darling, you'll be mine. Go now, before tongues wag, and wait for me."

She left the office, looking over her shoulder at the man, who would shortly be her lover in the fullest sense of the word. Her heart thudded with excitement and she fought to retain her composure as she went about her duties for the rest of the day before returning to her room in the nurses' quarters and throwing her suitcase onto the bed she would never use to pack away her few personal possessions. Quietly, she let herself out of the room, and made her way to the door at the rear of the building. She emerged under a wrought iron staircase, which curled its way between the three floors, and swiftly exited the hospital grounds, turning right towards the church. At 6pm he found her, her portmanteau and case packed and lined up beside her as she waited for him, slightly away from the roadside to avoid inquisitive glances. Her heart beat so hard that she could feel it in her throat, causing her voice to flutter. He jumped down from the car and placed her luggage in the back before helping her into the passenger seat beside him.

"Ready?" he said, tightening his grip on her hand.

"Always," she replied, returning the pressure.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much to those of you, who have reviewed, and followed, this story. I'm glad you like it; it makes me really happy. XX_

CHAPTER 2

It was a relatively short journey from the church to the entrance to the grounds of Syon Park. Roland held Grace's hand in his for most of it, his thumb caressing her fingers. They were both quiet as the full import of what they were about to do seemed to hit them. It was Roland, who broke the silence.

"I can't believe that we're here together; a middle aged couple on the verge of flouting every social convention to follow their hearts."

"You don't regret it, do you?" Grace asked, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice. "I can go back to the nurses' quarters. It isn't too late and no one knows I have gone."

"Sweetheart, I will never regret this decision. The prospect of a life with you is the sweetest vista I have ever beheld. Why would I possibly regret it?"

"Because of your wife and son."

"Alexander will support me and my wife won't notice I've gone. Even if she did, I'd never change my mind because it's always been you. You are not some brief infatuation, which will flare brightly and then fade like the evening sun. You're everything."

Grace raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. Her heart was overflowing with the love she had hidden for so long and thought would never be fulfilled. They pulled up at what appeared to be an old gatekeeper's lodge, set back from the main drive, and obscured by the heavy undergrowth of the surrounding gardens. The gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the car as Roland parked it at the side of the house and carried her cases to the little entrance porch, before returning to lead her to the front door.

Her hand rested in his as she said, "It's lovely, Roland, so pretty."

She looked at the old cabbage roses and honeysuckle scrambling up the exterior of the lodge, and the leafy fringing of the wisteria around the windows. The garden was a perfect cottage patch with mixed borders of colourful perennials set between plantings of lavender. There were some very elderly fruit trees at the rear and the whole was bounded by high hedges of slightly untidy privet.

"You're so lucky to live here," Grace said, turning to him.

"We're so lucky, you mean. This is our home."

She beamed at him as he opened the door and ushered her into the cool of the hall, taking her coat to place in the small gothic arched cupboard to one side of the door. She stood where she was, waiting to see what he wanted. The tug of his arms, pulling her against his chest, was her answer; he wanted her. She opened her mouth to receive and return kisses, which grew in passion and depth, with every minute which passed, as his hands roamed her slender frame with increasing urgency, rising to stroke the sides of her breasts, stroking them until her nipples hardened and she sought his hands fully upon them, urging him on. Suddenly he tore himself away from her and, running his hand across his head, looked at her hard and said,

"There's no going back if we continue on this path, Grace. You can still change your mind if you wish. I'll understand and I'll always love you. You have so much to give and I don't want you to regret that you gave it to me, a man yoked to a woman he doesn't love, yet desiring another, who deserves far better than he can ever give, until he feels torn in two by the pain of longing."

Grace seized his hand and went to him.

"Don't you ever doubt my love for you again, Roland. I want for nothing if you are with me. I care nothing for anyone except you, nor one jot for social standing. I am the richest woman alive with you beside me and the most impoverished without. My life's an empty vessel, if I can't share it with you." So saying she kissed him with a desperate passion that knew no bounds. She could feel his body leap at her caress. "Now do you believe me?"

His relief was palpable for his fear of losing her had been real.

"Sweet Grace, how I love you. You'll want for nothing; I'll love you forever, and then still more. We'll fashion a world fit for true lovers and I'm the richest man alive for knowing you will share it with me."

"Shh…enough talking. Take me to bed and make love with me."

He stroked her face, and pushed her hair back from it, before capturing her mouth once again and sweeping her off her feet and into his arms.

"You're light as a feather. I'm frightened I might break you."

"You won't break me. I'd be broken without you, but never with you."

He carried her upstairs, pushed open the bedroom door and laid her on his bed.

"I've never slept in a four poster bed," she said, looking up at the tester and taking in the carved oak posters.

"What makes you think you'll be sleeping, Grace?" he replied, as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her on top of him, where she could feel his hardness pressing against her hip and thigh. Balancing her atop, he removed the pins from her hair and she shook it out to lie like a heavy net of gold thread about their faces, placing her hands either side of his cheeks and dipping her tongue between his lips. He raised himself up from the mattress and buried his hands in her hair, turning her face to a better angle for him to possess her mouth in return. As their kiss deepened, he rolled her beneath him and his hands travelled to her neckline, easing open the fastening of her crisp starched collar, which he threw to one side, as he unbuttoned her top to reveal the brassiere beneath, his fingers desperate to touch her.

He pulled the top from the waistband of her skirt and ran his hands up along warm pliant flesh to stroke her breasts. Her breathing had become ragged with desire and he bent his head to kiss her breasts through the silk of their soft covering. He could feel her nipples beneath the silk and drew one up between his teeth, tonguing the material so that it became almost translucent, pushing it to one side, as his lips closed on the hardened flesh, standing proud from its surroundings. She moaned over and over again as he took her to a different level of pleasure with every touch of his mouth and hands on her. The brassiere soon joined her top and collar on the floor, as he fumbled with her waistband, his mouth loathe to leave her breasts, which seemed heavier and more sensitive than ever.

"Wait," she gasped.

He stopped what he was doing, concern flooding his features, but she was swift to reassure as she reached for his tie and removed it, with agile fingers, before slipping his shirt buttons through, pushing the shirt back from his shoulders and over his arms. He pulled his arms through the sleeves and balled it up, throwing it backwards, before returning to caress and pleasure her. She had lost so much weight that his hands could span her waist with ease, as the skirt fastening came undone. Reaching down, he slid his fingers beneath her skirt to seek out the seat of her femininity.

Her leg was bent at the knee and he slid his hand along her thigh and down over her calf, before trailing back up her inner thigh to graze her sex, through her underwear, causing her to gasp with pleasure as his fingers slipped effortlessly inside and ran between the folds of her liquid core. She mimicked his actions, having opened his trousers, and slid her hand into his pants to gently stroke him, loving the heat emanating from him. The breath hissed from his mouth, as he felt himself stiffen and grow in her palm, twitching with every sweep along his length. He had thought to make love to her with his mouth, but he knew he would not last much longer; such was his desire for her. There would be time for that later in the night. For now, he needed to be inside her, making her his through losing himself in her body, and being made hers in the act of love, driving her with him to the precipice, beyond the edge of which lay fulfilment, and pouring his essence deep within.

Sensing his need, Grace pushed up against his hand, but he moved it and pushed her skirt and underwear down, pulling them over her ankles and off. She looked at him with eyes black with passion and lips open and swollen from his kisses, silently begging him to find his release in her. Her hands grasped his buttocks, kneading the flesh, and urging him forwards, as his fingers slid into her, curling up and massaging her until she screamed his name and he knew this was the moment that they had been building towards ever since they had met in 1914. Here on this bed in 1919 that passion was finally to be consummated.

Withdrawing his fingers, he lifted her legs either side of his waist and held them in place, whilst positioning himself and thrusting forward, his body parting her and then, with one final thrust, coming to rest deep inside her. Her cry of satisfaction, and the tightening of her grip on him, fed his confidence and he started to pull out and thrust in, as her feet hooked behind his waist, pulling him ever deeper inwards, her mouth sucking at the flesh above his collarbone, branding him as hers and thrusting up to meet him. She threw her arms above her head; her breasts topped by darkened nipples, moving her lower body against him, writhing beneath him, a willing participant in this dance to the "little death" the French spoke of. He held her torso in his hands, pumping into her with increasing force, knowing from her movements that she was almost there, as her head flew from side to side and she suddenly begged him to come deeper and claim her. He did and, crying out, they came together in paroxysms of physical abandonment, as each was lost in the other and the world began and ended in their joining and spasms of mutual fulfilment. They collapsed into each other's embrace, stroking tenderly, kissing gently, licking sensuously, knowing there was so much more to share, but for now they were content. Looking at her face next to him, hair spread about her and cheeks still flushed with passion, he was overcome by love and said,

"You are the most beautiful sight I've ever beheld. I can't believe you're mine, that I made you feel those things."

"You did and, if I am beautiful, it's because it's your eyes looking at me."

He kissed his way down her body, caressing her hip, and pulling her to him to cradle her as they relaxed. The evening was warm and they lay naked on the bed, her head resting against his chest.

"I don't have the words, Grace, to tell you what you mean to me."

"I think you just showed me what I mean and I know I've never wanted anyone as I want you. As for love, you're my love; there's never been another, nor ever will be."

"Oh my darling, I'll want you again and again before this night is out, but I think a recovery period is needed."

She kissed his chest and slipped her leg between his, relishing the feeling of togetherness and comfort that simple action created, as she closed her eyes.

Sometime later, Roland reached across to Grace and, realising the bed was empty, rose with a start, but was relieved to see her standing naked by the window, bathed in the silvery light of the moon, her chin resting in her hands as she looked out over the garden. He slid across the bed and, taking the coverlet, he went to her and stood behind her, his arms coming up around her, enfolding her to him, swaddled in the satiny material. He felt his flesh stir as she pressed back against him whispering his name, and the blood flow, along his length, made him erect once more. Her sigh in response was throaty and erotic, suggesting an unassuaged desire for him, despite their earlier passionate coupling. He bent her forwards and, finding her body ready for him, entered and touched her, as they made love again, stopping before they came.

"I don't want it to end so soon. I want it to be perfect," he groaned.

Turning her to face him, he knelt at her feet and parted her legs, tasting her and worshipping her with his mouth as she bent back across the window sill, thrusting forward to meet every stroke of his tongue, as he crested the tiny sensitised nub of flesh within, which threatened to send her spiralling away from him, as her climax steadily built.

"Roland, I can't… hold on… for much longer. Please…"

He was pulsating with an animal need to have her where she stood, her skin appeared powdered with pure platinum and her hair shone like diamond dust in the pure, pale light. He was totally undone and rose from his knees in one seamless motion, lifting her onto him as he stroked into her, every nerve ending in his body concentrated at the point of their joining and prompting a renewed vigour in him, as he held her body against the wall and sill, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses onto his face and neck. He pulled back slightly to an angle, which afforded her maximum enjoyment, and she canted her hips to meet his every inward movement, swiftly reaching a point where her head tipped back, as she lost herself in the moment, her cries penetrating the still of the velvety night and causing the moonlit tracery of wisteria leaves to shiver as her hair lightly grazed them. The scent of honeysuckle and roses wafted into the room as, with one final deep thrust, he pitched into the vocalised ecstasy of heightened sensation, which was as ancient as man himself, and which left him gripping her as close to him as possible, as she in her turn pulsed around him, both of them shaking with the force of mutual fulfilment. They slid onto the window seat, with the coverlet loosely draped around them, as their breathing returned to normal. He held her face to his, raining tiny kisses upon it, whispering his love for her, as she caressed him and described the feelings he had evoked in her.

"You know that you're mine forever now, don't you?" he said, kissing the skin of her throat.

"Willingly yours for the rest of our days," she answered.

"I want you to be happy here, my love," he continued kissing her throat.

"I shall be. My happiness is where my heart lies, here with you. I love you, my darling."

He held her close as he spoke and she snuggled into the shelter of his body, truly content with her lot.

_**Please review if you have time.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**I'm trying to juggle an awful lot of balls at the moment, none of which was planned, but sometimes life likes to keep you on your toes. I hope you're enjoying this and I'm posting a couple of chapters as I did for "Faith Hope and Love" to say "Thanks" for understanding. Your reviews are much appreciated and, currently, feel like little hugs when I need them most. XX **_

**CHAPTER 3**

The night air turned chill and damp as they lay in each other's arms along the window seat and Grace involuntarily shivered beneath the delicate satin coverlet in which they were wrapped. Her movement woke Roland who turned to nuzzle against her cheek.

"You're cold, darling. Let's go to bed."

He rose and closed the window, helping her up and walking, arms entwined around each other, to the bed. He pulled back the covers, eased her between the sheets and then joined her, pulling the blankets up and round them. Grace moved closer within his embrace, relishing his warmth, and pressed her lips to his chest, snuggling down to resume her sleep, but the gentle movement of his hands, stroking her back, served to place sleep firmly on the back burner. The lightness of his touch made her flesh tingle and instinctively she reached for him to return the caress. As they stroked one another, their mouths met in the silvery darkness, moving effortlessly, as if bringing one another to the heights of profound mutual passion was a familiar friend. He tore his lips away for a second, breathlessly confessing his feelings for her.

"Grace, my sweetheart, you've opened the door of love for me and I can see that, before tonight, I'd never stepped beyond the threshold."

She said nothing, for she could not think beyond the moment, overwhelmed as she was by her physical response to him, but she took his hand, kissed it and placed it against her, holding it fast, looking deep into eyes, which reflected the moonlight, so close that they shared breath. With a groan, his fingers slid home once more and he heard her sharp intake of breath, as she levered herself up, so that he could move more freely inside her. Her hands were either side of his face, as she drew his mouth to hers, once more, and undulated against him. As their kiss ended, he placed his lips against her ear whispering,

"You drive me wild with longing; you know that don't you?" His thumb skirted the raised flesh at the heart of her and she gasped with pleasure, expelling her reply with each moan that rose from deep within.

"If I do, it isn't intentional, but I want you so much. I want you to make love to me, to touch me, to fill me….."

Her words trailed off, as they sparked a purely physical response in him, and she could feel his hardness press against her, whilst he stroked her face and then moved on top of her to make love once more, saying her name like a mantra, over and over again, driven to savour the reality of the love he had felt for so long but which could only now be fully expressed. Grace wanted him fully as much and the impact of his words was like an intense emotional assault, one before which she willingly capitulated, opening herself to him, holding nothing back. As her legs parted, she felt an exquisite pressure followed by a sudden deep seated sensation of fullness as he entered her and started to move slowly, covering her body with his, even in the extreme grip of his passion, wanting to protect her. She raised her head from the bed, reaching for his mouth, needing him and pulling him down onto her, as her legs wrapped around him and her hips met his every thrust. Her mind was a whirl and she could think of nothing beyond the need to reach fulfilment together, matching his pace and rhythm, until she registered a change on a subliminal level. Seconds later, he lost control and his shout of completion merged with her name, while her accompanying cries as her body shuddered with the force of her climax, left her trembling like an aspen in the breeze, and it seemed to her that the darkness around them momentarily shimmered. He collapsed on top of Grace and she relished the pressure of his body on hers, as she ran her hands down his back. She felt alive.

As his body recovered, he gently nudged her head to one side and kissed her neck, murmuring the words of lovers for generations before them, leaving her in no doubt of his desire and love for her. He rolled over and took her with him, looking into her eyes as she lay along his body, peppering her face with tiny kisses finally settling on her mouth for moments of deeper, more sensuous caress. When rest came, they lay facing and holding each other, Grace's head safely tucked beneath his chin as he cradled her.

"I can't believe you're here, in bed with me. I've wanted you for so long, my love. I feel as if I've captured a moonbeam."

"Believe it; I'm here and I'm real."

"Oh, I know that you're real. My body would never respond this way for a product of my imagination."

"How do you know that? Did you imagine lying with me when we were in France?"

"What do you think?"

"If you were anything like me, I longed for you so much I would often lie awake and wish you would come into my tent and make love to me."

"Oh, Grace, the time we've wasted when we could have experienced the joy we now have."

"We didn't waste it, but perhaps we could have been more honest about our feelings despite the obvious barriers."

"We can't go back, we can only move forward. Come with me on the journey. It'll last a lifetime, if you'll have me."

"If not you, then no one else will do."

He held her closer than ever.

"It's selfish of me, but I'm glad. I never wanted you to love anyone but me and I had no right. I'd look at you while you worked in the office and pray that you wouldn't find anyone else. Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you for loving me? Of course I can. If I'd known what you were thinking I might have been braver."

"Well, neither of us knew what the other felt or, perhaps we did, but were frightened of rejection."

"Which is why tonight is so special. We never expected this and yet here we are in your bed. We're lovers at last. I love you so much, Roland."

He nuzzled her neck and said, "I'll never give you cause to regret your decision, Grace. I'll love you forever, give you anything you want, and make you the centre of my world."

"I just need you, Roland, nothing else."

"I wish I was free so I could marry you, but I shall be one day."

"I told you, all I need is you, to feel your mouth on me, your arms round me and your body in mine. Nothing else matters. What makes you think I need marriage?"

"Don't you?"

"Not if I have you, but if you asked me, I might consider saying yes."

He could hear the gentle humour in her voice.

"Will you marry me when I'm free?"

There was no hesitation as she answered, "Yes, Roland, I shall."

She held him as she said this and he returned her embrace telling her he loved her.

"Grace, I don't have a household as such. Will you be able to manage?"

"Roland, think back. What did we have in France and did I cope?"

He smiled against her hair.

"Very little and, yes, you did."

"I've dreamt of living with you, of looking after you and satisfying your needs for years. Let me, please."

Laughing quietly he said, "You certainly satisfy my needs. I didn't realise how much they needed satisfying prior to tonight."

She playfully smacked his bottom with her free hand and he responded by seizing it and pinning it to the mattress above her head, while he bent to kiss the breast, which his actions had freed from beneath the bedclothes, sucking at the nipple which she was pressing into his mouth and then drawing it to point and releasing it, as he freed her hand. Grace's hands moved to hold his head as she very deliberately and sensuously kissed him, allowing her tongue to mesh with his.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

"Of making love with you? Never!"

They laughed together.

"So, will you let me look after you?"

"Yes, with pleasure. I do have a woman who comes in from the village to clean the house, change the linen and collect laundry. That would be a help wouldn't it?"

"Of course; especially as I'll be working at the hospital, " Grace answered.

"You don't have to work, Grace. I have enough to support both of us and to keep this house running."

"But I want to nurse and manage my staff; it's part of me and I've earned it. Anyway, I'd hardly see you, if I stayed here all day. It isn't going to change things, is it?"

"No, my darling, it doesn't change anything and it's true that we would see more of each other with you at the hospital, too. Are you sure you can manage me as well as work, sweetheart?"

Grace moved against him smiling, as she answered, "I'll enjoy trying to. Yes, I can manage you. I'm determined not to lose my professional role. Please, Roland, say you support me on this."

"I do support you; no one knows better than I just how good you are at your role. I just wanted you to have the chance to give up, if you wanted, and to simply be my partner."

"Oh, Roland, I won't pretend it isn't tempting and, I promise you, there is no choice between you and my work. You know I would choose you in an instant. Perhaps in time I could nurse only a few days a week, but right now I can't envisage not nursing."

The arms which held her tightened their hold in response to her words and his mouth sought hers again, kissing her fears away.

"When we marry, darling, you'll have to resign from QAIMS; they won't let us work together if you're serving."

"I know, but who knows what will happen between now and then?"

"Let's take things one day at a time and see how we feel as we move forward. You want to look after me and I want to look after you; we'll work it out together."

"You're everything to me," she said planting a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"And you are to me, Grace. We'll make it work, whatever you decide."

"Is your lady from the village coming this morning?"

"Yes, she will be."

"Then we should sleep then and rise early. I wouldn't want to scandalise her by being found in your bed!"

"Now there's a thought: Mrs Anderson walking in to find us sprawled naked amidst the bedclothes. Actually, not one I relish. Sleep tight, my darling. I'll be up early and I'll wake you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**In which we meet Mrs Anderson and Roland is promised more than a salad for his tea! **_

**CHAPTER 4**

It seemed that no time had gone by when Grace became aware of an insistent voice, dragging her unwillingly from a deep sleep to open her eyes. Yawning, she realised it was morning and a sunny one at that. Roland was leaning over her in his dressing gown

"Come on, lazy bones. Time to get ready before Mrs Anderson arrives."

"I'm so tired, darling."

"No prizes for guessing why that is!"

"No. And we all know whose fault it is, too."

"I didn't notice you complaining, Matron," he said as he bent down to kiss her. His dressing gown parted as he did so affording her access to his body. As her hand rose to gently cup him, she smiled as she replied,

"Did I say I minded?"

He grinned at her, "Not as I recall; in fact, I'd say you were positively enthusiastic as, indeed, certain parts of my anatomy are becoming right now. You're not playing fair, Grace Carter. How would you feel if I did that to you?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Roland Brett."

With that, he ran his fingers along her, and she sighed with pleasure.

"Now who's not playing fair?"

She sat up in bed and, smiling at him, dropped a teasing kiss upon his length.

Groaning he said, "And you'd better stop that or we shall definitely have a scandalised maid on our hands. Come on, my beautiful one."

He pulled her up and rising from the bed, Grace looked around.

"Where's my bag? I didn't even unpack my things. My blouse and skirt will be creased to pieces."

"I brought it up before I woke you. Show me the damage and I'll try to help."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll press it."

"You? Roland, seriously, you would press my clothes?"

"I won't be making a habit of it, but I can help out when needed. I'm not completely useless!"

Wrapping her arms around his neck she grazed his mouth with hers and said, "You're far from useless, my darling."

He held her close for a few seconds as he nuzzled her neck, his chin scraping against her collarbone, reddening the skin, which he then soothed with his tongue. Sensing her ready response, he drew back and looked at her with eyes darkened with longing once again.

"I love you, Grace. This is our first day as lovers."

"I feel truly alive for the first time, Roland. You've made that happen."

"I feel the same. I wish we could stay here, but we have patients."

"And before that, we have Mrs Anderson."

"You're right. Come on, let's get ready and pass me your uniform."

Grace quickly unpacked her things and retrieved her skirt and top.

"Where should I put my things?"

"Next door; there's a dressing room attached to the second bedroom. Come, I'll show you."

They went in and Grace put away her few possessions. As she went in to the bedroom, she saw Roland pulling at the sheets and pillow. Looking up he saw her laughing.

"I just thought I'd better mess up the bed in here, too. It's not so obvious then."

She went to him and held him close.

"I love you so."

"In time I dare say she'll put two and two together and make four, but for now, let her get used to you being here and see where that takes us. She's a kind soul so I don't foresee any problems."

"I need to wash."

"In here, sweetheart." He led her to an adjoining door and into a small bathroom. "I'll do my best with these," he said gesturing to her uniform.

Cupping his cheek, she kissed him. "Thank you."

As she washed and prepared for the day ahead, Grace marvelled at the turn in her fortunes. Twenty four hours ago she had dressed with a heavy heart, going through the motions as she had done every day since she had lost him, the landscape before her one of emotional aridity. Yet one day later, it was burgeoning with life and she was his at last. The sponge trailed down her body and she could see the evidence of their night of passionate lovemaking marked on her skin. Each tiny mark represented a moment of indescribable longing, each was the result of love, none was deliberately made and, as strange as it sounded, she treasured them. She knew his body would be the same. Love making like theirs could not but leave its imprint and she was as desirous of him as he was of her. She smiled at her reflection and saw a different Grace smile back, different yet the same. "I'm the same person, but I feel different," she thought.

Leaving the sanctuary of the bathroom she started to don her clean underwear and moments later, Roland came back with her skirt and top. They were not perfect, but they would do very well. He looked at her standing in her lingerie, so new and yet so familiar to him. She was his life now and he had never been happier. She smiled at him and looked pointedly at the clothing he was holding and he realised that he was gripping it tightly and it would crease again.

"Sorry, darling."

"Thank you. You are the most wonderful man in the world. I'm so lucky. Promise me, we'll never lose how this feels right now."

"I promise. Now you promise me, you'll always greet me like this in the morning."

Grace looked down and realised that she had not yet put on her brassiere. She blushed and momentarily felt shy, but then the look of absolute desire on his face empowered her and she raised her arms, running her hands through her hair, which gave him an uninterrupted view of her breasts. She did it with no disingenuous intent, but because she wanted him.

"Like this, you mean; I promise!"

He went to her as she had known he would and for a few seconds they kissed as he cupped and teased her, leaving her aroused, but supremely happy.

"We'd better get dressed. Mrs Anderson will be here soon."

"I'll make some toast, Roland."

"Already done and on the warming plate."

"I love you, so much, but let me help you."

"Tomorrow, perhaps, when you're more settled in."

She smiled at him and set about her hair and nurse's headdress. She had done this so many times, she could do it in her sleep. He watched her and took in how each pin created the look with which he was so familiar. It was so new to him, all this domesticity; he loved it and, yet, he loved her more for bringing him this joy.

Half an hour later, they were ready and having their toast, when the kitchen door opened and a buxom, woman with salt and pepper hair and a smile as broad as her hips, entered the kitchen. She looked at Roland, not in an unfriendly manner, but clearly seeking an explanation.

"Ah, Mrs Anderson; let me present my dear, nursing colleague, Matron Grace Carter, who served with me for the entirety of the war on the Western Front."

"Good morning, Matron Carter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Grace, this is Mrs Anderson. She keeps me in order and I daresay will do the same for you as you'll be staying here."

"Mrs Anderson, the pleasure is mine. I hope that Colonel Brett has not been too difficult a charge. I found him immensely difficult to organise in France and he appears not to have changed one jot."

The older woman looked appraisingly at Grace and then, to Grace's great relief, she laughed out loud.

"You have the measure of him, then, Matron Carter. Perhaps with two of us chivvying him up, we might make some progress."

"Perhaps."

"I am still in the room you know," Roland said.

"We hadn't forgotten you," Grace replied with easy familiarity.

"I'll make up the second bedroom for you and air the room. It must have been rather stale in there."

"I was able to take the night air. Thank you." Grace had a feeling that Mrs Anderson knew she had not occupied the room, but she was content to maintain the fiction. It was easier that way.

"Now, we must take our leave. Shall you be here later, Mrs Anderson?"

"I doubt it today Colonel, but tomorrow, I shall work late."

"We'll see you tomorrow then. If you could check that we have the basics for a salad and cold meats tonight, I would be obliged," Roland said.

"Leave that to me. You two have work to go to. Good day, Matron Carter. It will be nice to have a lady about the house."

"Likewise for me. Till tomorrow, Mrs Anderson."

Grace extended her hand and was relieved, once more, to find it readily taken and firmly shaken. Mrs Anderson seemed a reasonable person and that was a blessing. As they got into the car, Roland and Grace waved goodbye and Mrs Anderson returned the gesture with a smile.

"She likes you," Roland said, "but then I knew she would."

Grace smiled at him, "And I like her. Eyes forward, Sir. I'd like to arrive in one piece."

"May I remind you who's driving."

"You may, but I'd still like your eyes on the road."

"Bossy."

"Not at all; just protecting my future happiness, Roland. I want us both hale and hearty for later or did you only have cold meats in mind for tonight?" Grace's face bore the promise of much more than Roland was used to. His heart beat faster at the prospect and he squarely faced forward.

"That's better, Colonel, and for the record, I adore you."

He grinned at that and taking her hand squeezed it.

"And I adore you, too, Matron Carter."


	5. Chapter 5

_**I haven't forgotten this story, but there are an awful lot of balls being kept in the air, at present, in my work life especially, and I can't afford to drop one. Thanks for bearing with me.**_

_**Grace and Roland's first day as a proper working "couple". What will the day bring? XX **_

**CHAPTER 5**

They arrived at the hospital within a few minutes of leaving the grounds of the park. Roland parked the car at the rear of the main building, far from prying eyes and not overlooked, the windows on that side being glazed with opaque glass. He tucked it away behind some laurel bushes and helped Grace down, holding her hand fractionally longer than strictly necessary and gently squeezing it. She smiled in acknowledgement, pressing his fingers in return. They walked round to the entrance, a picture of formality, discussing each other's day to come. No one seeing them would have known that, mere hours before, they had been entwined in each other's arms after hours of passionate love making. As they entered the building he took his leave of her and they went their separate ways; physically apart, but very much joined in the other's thoughts.

Grace's mind wandered across the events of their night together. He had made her the happiest she had ever been. It seemed impossible to consider that a mere forty eight hours earlier, Grace had approached the move with trepidation, believing it was uprooting her from what was familiar and placing her somewhere she would have to start again. Instead, it had brought her back, literally, into the arms of the man she had secretly loved for years. Knowing that her feelings had been reciprocated all the time, made her feel a sense of renewed hope for the future. At the field hospital Grace had been renowned for her refined, perfectly groomed, professionalism. Her superb organisational skills were reflected even in the outward appearance which she projected to others. She carried herself with a quiet inner strength, her head held high, seldom hurrying and never running anywhere, as if the sense of order, which she instilled in those around her, already had all manner of issues in hand.

As she walked along the corridors leading to the main wards today, she had another reason altogether. She held her head high to match her hopes for the future, which suddenly shone bright. Grace did not care about Roland's marital status. She had never been an individual, whose inner values were shaped by conventional mores; rather she was driven by her humanity and her heart. The prospect of life without him had left her bereft and now, having been released from that silent torment, all she cared about was sharing her days with him. Her whole being was suffused with what she assumed could only be called joyful anticipation. Her face seemed to be on the verge of smiling, which was wholly inappropriate for someone of her rank. She had to be seen as someone whose competence was beyond reproach, but who also preserved a dignified professional distance so that discipline and order were maintained.

Drawing down against years of experience, she sacrificed the joys of being in love for the rigour of being in charge, at least whilst in the hospital. Her face regained its customary neutral, fathomless expression and the sparkle which had pervaded her being this morning was firmly dampened and placed away in favour of her usual solid and dependable persona. "Thank goodness that the staff cannot see what lies beneath this uniform," she thought, knowing that her body bore the marks of last night's passion and that even the thought of being in Roland's bed made her tingle. She looked down at her apron and could not help but soften at the thought of him pressing it for her.

Her footsteps took her straight onto the main surgical ward and she was pleased to note that the staff were ready for her arrival. The beds were being made and most of the patients, except those who were difficult to move, had been bathed and fed. The remaining patients were in the process of receiving more individual treatment based on their particular needs. The ward overlooked the churchyard, which Grace had initially felt was bad planning, until she realised that the building had originally served as the parish workhouse. The alignment with the church was thus to be expected. Still, it was unfortunate that their recovering patients should look out on moss covered gravestones instead of something more uplifting. Grace walked the length of the ward and nodded at each man as she passed by their beds. There were vases of flowers on the window sills, but she noted that the water in some looked decidedly murky. They would have to be changed. She also noticed that very few of the windows were open. A light and airy ward was good for boosting spirits and morale. At the end of the ward were French windows, but they did not appear to have been opened in a long time, most likely due to the ecclesiastical outlook beyond. Grace determined that she would find an alternative place for the men to sit, to cheer their spirits and aid convalescence.

She was pleased to see that some of the patients were sitting in chairs, clad in warm dressing gowns, and, contrary to common practice, were not being encouraged to just lie in bed causing their muscles to waste, if they were capable of getting up. Grace had long felt that a positive mental outlook would aid recovery, and her experience of wartime nursing had done little to alter that view. Sometimes she felt it was just a simple question of not thinking too much. Anyone who had thought about the trenches in any detail would have never set foot in them again and yet many had pushed to return. Those, who had harboured a strong sense of team spirit during the war years, or who were outgoing by nature, tended to improve faster and push harder to return to their fellow combatants than those who were more introspective and reflective by nature. She had hated watching them get better only to be sent back up the line to face almost certain injury again, or worse.

Roland had understood her feelings and it was one of many areas of common ground which they shared. They often sat and talked into the night, particularly after his son's tragic death, when every instinct told her to reach out to him and to offer him physical comfort, but she was too frightened to in case she had misread the signs and would lose him altogether; a touch which seemed to last fractionally too long, a meeting of eyes which lingered and suggested more, a commitment which spoke of a passionate nature too often quashed by discipline. She realised that her mind habitually wandered back to Roland and she smiled as she thought of the new memories they would create together. For now though her focus had to be work and ensuring that the ward was spotless and tidy for the medical staff rounds.

She retraced her steps and checked each bed ensuring that linen was spotless, corners were perfectly folded and tucked away, blankets were secured and not creased, pillows were plumped and bedside tables tidied and clean. Notes were secured to clipboards at the end of each bedstead and any medications had been dispensed. All patients were now washed, scrubbed, brushed and breakfasted. The flower vases she had spotted, which needed changing, had been removed and the floors and surfaces gleamed. All in all, she was satisfied and her ward staff looked relieved. Their relief was not to last long. Grace's next area for attention was their appearance. Two nurses were sent to change their aprons, another to attend to her hair, which was in need of tidying and pinning. Grace checked their hands and nails to ensure that they were clean and not too long. Wearers of shoes, which were not polished to within an inch of their lives, were sent to bring the offending items up to standard. Now she was satisfied and set about her paperwork, having allocated various tasks to the staff. At 10.30am sharp, the ward doors opened and the doctors arrived.

"Matron Carter, any problems to report?" said Dr. Davies.

"None beyond the lack of a suitable dayroom facility for the men, Doctor."

"What's wrong with the veranda, Matron?"

"Nothing, if one enjoys being reminded of one's mortality every second of the day." Grace replied.

Dr. Davies laughed out loud as he followed Grace's eye-line to the graveyard beyond.

"Yes, I see your point, Matron. Perhaps a word with the Colonel would help. He seems in a particularly good mood today, so I suggest you start your campaign there, don't you agree, Dr Jones?"

A nod of agreement was soon forthcoming from Dr. Jones.

In acknowledgement, Grace offered her thanks for the advice and inwardly thrilled that she had made such an impact on Roland that his staff had noticed a change in his demeanour.

The rounds went without a hitch and Grace ensured that the ward sister updated the patient notes as the doctors progressed round their charges.

"You've certainly made your mark already, Matron. Never seen the place so clean and tidy before."

"It's what the men deserve and what I expect."

"Well, I can see standards will be advanced under your management of the ward. We may ask for you to work your magic on the female surgical ward, too."

"I'm happy to oblige, Dr. Davies, but the nursing staff have also worked hard on this and, I know, will appreciate your comments as much as I do," Grace answered.

As she looked up she could see one or two of the nurses exchange glances. She made a mental note to deal with that very shortly. Once the medical team had left, Grace turned to the assembled nurses and asked,

"What exactly was the meaning of the looks you were all exchanging a moment or two back? It was hardly professional."

The staff shifted nervously from foot to foot until one of their number spoke for them.

"Begging your pardon, Matron Carter, we are not used to having our work commented upon to the doctors. We're usually invisible."

"Which is as it should be. Good nurses are an invisible presence aiding recovery, anticipating our patients' needs rather than reacting. It is easier to head off a problem than to deal with its aftermath."

"Matron, I'm sure I speak for everyone in saying we were simply grateful that you mentioned us. No one has done that before. Thank you, Matron Carter."

"I believe in disciplined hard work. Where I find it, you will all receive the credit. The reverse will also be the case. Now, to your duties."

Turning briskly on her heel, Grace returned to the office and completed all the administrative elements, which required her attention. She was just about to look for a suitable facility, to use as a dayroom, when a sharp knock at the glass alerted her to a visitor. She looked up and gestured to the young man to enter. It was Lieutenant Hall-Green, whom she had met the previous day.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Matron, sorry to disturb you, but the Colonel would like to speak with you. He asks if you will join him for lunch, if you're not too busy."

Grace maintained a calm exterior, which was more than could be said for her heart rate, which was galloping at an alarming rate. She did not betray her inner delight in any shape or form as she replied,

"Certainly. Please tell the Colonel that I shall be there shortly."

_**Please let me know what you think. Your reviews are a huge gift to me. X**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Another busy day at work, but I promised you a further chapter and here it is. Enjoy! XX**_

**CHAPTER 6**

She rose sedately from her seat behind the desk and saw him off before visiting the nurses' room to check her appearance. She was, as ever, immaculate. Returning to the ward, she went to the sister's desk in the centre, and advised her that she would be seeing the Colonel about the patient facilities and did not know when she would return. Lunches should be served and cleared in her absence. Sister Hare nodded her compliance and Grace left the ward in her usual calm and measured way. Her appearance, however, was deceptive because her feet wanted to fly to Roland's office and she had great trouble in not quickening her pace. Instead, she relished each step as bringing her one foot closer to the man she could now admit to herself she loved. Her stomach was turning cartwheels as she arrived in the office and knocked on his door. A few seconds later the door opened and she heard Roland saying to his adjutant that he would send for him, when he was next needed. As the Lieutenant exited the room, he gestured to her to enter. She inclined her head in reply and went in, closing the door behind her. Looking up she saw Roland circumnavigate his desk and come towards her, his feelings as clear as day in the huge smile which beamed at her.

"Grace," he said quietly, extending his hand to take hers and to pull her forwards into his arms. She raised her face expectantly and was not disappointed as he lowered his mouth to capture hers, leaving her in no doubts whatsoever of his love for her. His embrace was warm and passionate as he held her firmly against his chest, his hand stroking her face as he kissed her. When they finally surfaced, he said,

"I've missed you, my darling."

"And I, you," she replied.

"But I hear you've been busy bringing order to the wards."

"Who told you that?" she asked.

"Dr. Davies. I'd say he's rather smitten with you, Grace."

"Don't be silly, Roland. His interest is purely professional, I am sure, and besides, even if he was 'smitten', as you put it, I'm in love with you, so he's wasting his time."

"But he's younger than me, better looking and he's free."

"Age is but a number, Roland, and my eye finds your physiognomy perfectly pleasing. As for his status, he may be 'free', but I am not."

"Is there something I should know?" he teased.

"Not at all. I'm a prisoner, bound in chains, as I have been for the last six years, hopelessly in love with a man who is not free, but for whose good favour I would suffer any privation." There was no hint of irony in her comments.

"Do you truly love me so?" he questioned, suddenly serious.

"Do you have any doubts that I do?"

"No, sweetheart, no; I'm just amazed that someone like you could love someone like me." He sounded genuinely incredulous.

The passion of her response took his breath away as she said, "Don't ever say that. Someone 'like you' is someone 'wonderful' to me. I've been in love with you for so long and I can scarcely believe you love me, too. I'm happier than I ever dreamt possible and if you are never 'free', well, I'll still share your life and your bed, and I'll still thrill to your touch."

"Grace, you are my life, you have been for so long, and the thought of you in my bed each night, of making love to you… well, see what it does to me."

She smiled at him as she saw, and felt, his clear physical response to just the thought of making love to her.

"I can see very well, but you must wait until tonight."

He groaned at the prospect of waiting.

"Must I?"

"Yes, Roland, you must!"

"Not even a fleeting stroke?"

"Not even a tiny one! What if the ever efficient Lieutenant Hall-Green came in and found us….you know?"

"Found us what exactly?"

"Roland, do I have to spell it out?"

"Yes; I want to hear you say it. It's clearly the closest I shall get to the real thing."

"Very well; found us intimately touching one another, possibly even in the throes of passion."

"You have a point. Your body would inflame any man. The poor lad might never recover!"

They laughed at this and Roland continued,

"Oh Grace, one day with you, and I already miss you when you're not with me. What will become of me, poor lovelorn fool that I am?" He turned her hand over and kissed her palm.

"Do you think I find it easy knowing you're so close by and yet having to disguise my feelings in case I inadvertently lay us open to scrutiny? I love you so much."

"Will you make love with me tonight?" he asked, his voice barely disguising his need for her.

"What do you think? Of course, I shall. I'll be aflame with longing by this evening."

"Something to look forward to then," he joked.

Grace reached for his hand and placed it over her breast. He massaged the soft swelling through her brassiere and felt her nipple rise into his palm as she pressed against him.

"Definitely something to look forward to," she sighed as her body started to respond. "Forgive me; I ought not to have done that. It isn't fair on you, darling, or me."

"Don't apologise, sweetheart. I can get through the afternoon now."

"Hopefully, I can, too."

Grace noticed how easily the endearments came. It was just twenty four hours since they had professed their love for each other and it was as if they had always been together, which, in a way, she supposed they had been. Each had secretly loved the other, refined in the crucible of armed warfare, silently treasuring moments, very likely the same ones, imagined moments of shared passion, stood steadfastly and resolutely alongside the other, run the gamut of human emotions, and emerged the stronger to openly love in the post-war world. Their love had grown from friendship, respect and attraction; there was no denying the last of these. The sound of his voice alone was enough to create a frisson of desire running through her body, more so now that she knew the reality of making love with him.

He needed to explain to her how much he loved her and the only way which seemed meaningful was to share his commitment to their future.

"I know we joked about being free, but I shall be one day, Grace. Hold faith with me on that. I can't rest until you're mine; I must have you by my side forever."

Her response was unequivocal.

"I am by your side and, God willing, shall always be. As for being yours, no piece of paper or words could make me yours to a greater degree than I feel right now. You have me, Roland, whether you want me or not."

"I've always wanted you and always shall. Will you have lunch with me?"

"Of course, I shall. I want to talk to you about something for the male patients."

He led her to a small table by the window at the end of the room. His office was not overlooked and was bordered by a small private garden, so this was a real retreat from the activity of the hospital.

"I'm afraid it's only tea and sandwiches like we used to have."

"That's fine, Roland."

"Especially as we have dinner tonight. You've not seen the amount that Mrs Anderson believes the average person consumes," he said rolling his eyes.

"Oh, no! I thought she liked me, but she won't be happy when she sees how little I eat."

"She'll not change her mind about you. I've learnt that she has very definite opinions on things, which are almost impossible to shift."

"Such as?"

"Well, she has always said that a wife's place is at her husband's side."

"I see. Meaning why is your wife not with you?"

"Let's put it this way, as Hetty leads a totally separate life with no contact between us, you can imagine that Mrs Anderson has referred to her in less than complimentary terms on more than one occasion. Quite possibly that's why she force-feeds me all the time; a form of compensatory behaviour."

"So, what will she make of me? Particularly when I don't show any signs of moving out? I'm assuming you want me to stay."

"You're home now, Grace; you are my home. Of course you're staying. She's no fool, my love. She'll have worked it out the moment she came into the kitchen and saw us the picture of domestic bliss. The fact that she's extended the hand of friendship to you signals her acceptance of the status quo. If she sees me happy, which she did this morning for the first time, she will heap blessings on your head!"

"That's good to know. I'm pleased to have at least one ally."

"You've got three; you've got me, too, and the ever smitten Dr Davies!"

Roland ducked as Grace pretended to smack him.

"Two, not three."

"Well, you say that now, but who knows….!"

"Roland, please be quiet. I am strictly off-limits to Dr. Davies as my heart belongs to another."

"Lucky chap, whoever he is."

"Will you be quiet and eat your lunch before I get very annoyed."

"I can see you mean it. Your "Matron voice" just surfaced."

"My what?"

"Tom Gillan used to call it your "Matron voice". He was right, too, but of course, I could never be so disloyal as to agree, no matter how much I might want to."

"And what exactly is it, this "Matron voice"?"

"It's what you just did; very prim and proper with just a hint of disapproval and impatience lurking in the background."

"I see. Well, let's hope you don't give me too many occasions on which to exercise it."

"You did it again. Oh, Grace, I do love you so."

"And, "Matron voice" or not, I love you, too."

He leant forward and placing his index finger beneath her chin, he tilted her mouth to meet his, kissing her with obvious enthusiasm and delight.

"So, what did you want to discuss before we became side-tracked?"

"I'd like a day room for the male patients, Roland. They have no where they can truly socialise and recuperate. The only place is the veranda and that overlooks the cemetery. Hardly conducive to fixing their thoughts on recovery."

"I'm sure we can find something for them which is better than that. This place is so big and rambling that there are parts of it, which are barely used. I seem to recall there was a small ward off to the left before you get to the male ward. It isn't used at all. Perhaps that might do. We could look together after lunch."

"That would be wonderful, Roland."

"And its conversion will provide a perfect cover for me to visit you more often during the day, if we can make use of it."

"I'd like that very much. I miss your presence, too.

"Well, let's finish off here and make our way back. Sandwich?"

They talked and ate for a little while longer. Once they had finished, he ushered her towards the door, stopping only for a brief kiss before escorting her back to her end of the building. It was not long before they reached a set of half glazed, padlocked, double doors. He had remembered correctly.

"This is it, Grace. I'll get the keys in a little while and pop back so that we can get in. It's close enough for the more able bodied patients to access, don't you think?"

Grace peered through the thin crack where the two doors met in the middle. She could see a good sized, bay fronted room, with plenty of light and no gravestones in sight.

"This will do nicely, Roland," she said, adding in a whisper, "Thank you, my love."

"My pleasure, darling," was his equally quiet reply." On your way now, and I'll be back later this afternoon."

Grace smiled at him and when he looked into her eyes he felt he could have drowned in the depth of feeling he saw reflected there. His body pulsed with longing to hold her, but that was impossible.

"Until later, Colonel Brett," she said, reverting to the formal address required of their respective roles.

He nodded and watched as her form retreated towards the end of the corridor. "I'll never lose you again, Grace Carter," he thought, aware, as she had been, of how empty his life had been without her gentle presence. His mind leapt forward to the evening, and to returning home with her where he could hold her with impunity and embrace her in the fading light of the day.

_**Please review, if you have a chance. XX**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**I've got a lot of work to do at the moment and it's meant I haven't had a chance to write much. I'll be back in the zone this weekend, though. In the meantime, here's a chapter for you. I hope you enjoy it. Take care. XX **_

CHAPTER 7

True to his word, Roland appeared just before the night shift took over from the day team. A quiet knock at Grace's door signalled his presence, followed by a request to conduct a short ward round. Nodding in acknowledgement, Grace rose quietly from her desk and led Roland onto the ward, where the nurses were preparing for the handover to their colleagues. They looked taken aback by his unexpected appearance at such a late hour and looked to Grace for guidance, but he pre-empted her response by exhorting them to continue with their work and briefly went around exchanging a few words with the patients. Roland was well liked by his patients and team. He was a practical and sympathetic leader, who maintained high standards of expectation, but never lost sight of the human side of caring for others.

After his tour of the ward, he thanked the nursing team for their sterling work and went with Grace to check the suitability of the disused ward as a day room. Earlier, she had felt her spirits soar at the sight of him and could not keep the smile from her lips or the gentle twinkle from her eyes. He looked across at her and did not fail to spot them. Unpadlocking the doors, he pushed them open, saying that he would check it was safe for her to enter. After a lengthy period of disuse, he was concerned that the fabric of the room might have deteriorated, but this was not the case and a few seconds later, he came back and Grace entered with him. The first thing which struck her was the light; it was the sort of room which lifted spirits. It faced south and there was a garden of sorts beyond. It needed a lot of bringing up to scratch, of course, but the potential was there.

"It's perfect, Roland; space, light and the garden. I was thinking that perhaps the more able patients might be able to do some gardening, grow some flowers or vegetables. There is something rather wonderful about nurturing things and the less able bodied can appreciate the fruits of their work. There's space to sit in here or out there. It'll need a lot done to it, but we can organise that. What? What is it, Roland?"

Grace's voice trailed off as she saw him looking intently at her.

"I was just thinking how wonderful it is to see you making a difference already. Our previous matron was here for far longer and achieved virtually nothing beyond terrorising the nursing staff and bullying the patients. I'm glad I can help you to achieve the things you want to. We did make a start back in France after all, using music for the patients, so your idea about gardening is an extension of that."

"I'm glad you approve. We can make a difference, Roland, and I think it will be a big one. Many of our patients will have seen nothing beyond death and destruction during the war years. We owe it to them to give them hope back."

"I most certainly do approve and especially of your dedication to those in your care, Grace. I've always felt that you and I saw things through the same lens and now I am convinced of it. However, it's time to leave it for today because I want to be with you. Are you ready to come home?"

Grace looked up at him, as he said this. She was still unused to hearing him speak so openly of his feelings and she felt dazed by her happiness, to which her body's thrilled inner response bore witness.

"Yes, my love. I want to go home."

As they turned and walked towards the door, her fingers briefly entwined with his and she exchanged a shy glance with him. She still could not believe what the past two days had brought, but she knew she was supremely happy.

He whispered, "Go and get your cape, sweetheart, and I'll be waiting for you where we came in this morning. Don't be long. I want to get home as soon as possible."

"Is there something you need to do?"

"Yes, there is. I want to hold you, Grace."

Grace's face was as an open book, with every emotion written large upon it: love, happiness, desire and anticipation.

"I won't be long, darling."

If Grace could have skipped to her office and not attracted attention, she would have done so. As it was, she quickened her pace and retrieved her belongings from her office, before heading for the exit and the car. He was waiting, slightly back from the vehicle, and she would not have realised he was there had she not been expecting to see him. He opened her door and helped her in, the light pressure from his hand, in the small of her back, electric in its effect. A few minutes later they were on the road and heading home, her hand clasped in his as he drove towards the park entrance. They were comfortable sitting quietly with each other, as if thinking of what the evening might bring. The park was lovely and warm in the late afternoon sunshine and Roland suggested that they might enjoy a walk later, as he parked the car. They went into the house and, while the cool of the hall enveloped them, the warmth of Roland's arms enveloped Grace. His thumb caressed the side of her mouth as his eyes, burning with intensity, locked onto hers, and his lips claimed hers. Their need for each other was apparent in the urgency of their response to each other's caresses. When they eventually drew breath he said,

"I've wanted to do that all day."

"And I've wanted you to," she answered, gently stealing another kiss.

"Oh Grace, I love you so much."

"You know I love you, too, and every bit as much."

"I have a choice for you; bed now and we get up later, or a short walk, early dinner and then I make love to you for the rest of the evening, and the morning, until you fall asleep in my arms."

"There's no choice. Making love with you all night is what I've dreamt of for years, so let's go for that walk now. I'd like to change my clothes though."

He grinned at the prospect of a night of passion and, raising her hand to his lips, said,

"You go and get changed. Remember to leave your laundry for Mrs Anderson to do. She'll have it done and pressed by the time we get back tomorrow, trust me. Now, tea?"

"I can make it."

"No, sweetheart, you go up and change."

"Thank you, darling, I won't be long."

Grace went upstairs and into the dressing room attached to the second bedroom, where she found her day dress of sprigged cotton with a lace trim. She shed her uniform and, folding it, she placed it to one side, before heading into the bathroom, where she quickly washed and changed into her dress and walking shoes. Grace brushed her hair and pinned it back in place, adding a few dabs of cologne to her pulse points, before heading downstairs, where she found Roland waiting for her with freshly brewed tea in the drawing room. As she entered, he turned and went to her, holding her hands in his.

"You are beautiful, my love."

"And you are too kind. I've only brought two dresses with me, which could vaguely be called pretty. My other things are in storage back at the cottage. I didn't think I would need much, if I was to be living in hospital accommodation."

"I'll soon sort out that situation."

"There's no need, Roland. I can afford to buy others."

"Grace, I want to do this. If we were married I would buy you anything you wanted, so why not now?"

"But we're not married and we may never be, so I have to be independent."

"You are the woman I love. It will happen and in the meantime, I am buying you some more clothes. You need them. We can go to London for some of the items, and the rest you can get from the local seamstresses, who need the income. Several of them lost husbands and they are trying to support themselves and their families. You can go to them independently, but I shall give you the money to spend."

"Roland….."

"Grace, no arguing, please. I want to do this. I'll give you an allowance and you get whatever you like with it."

"Come with me then, when we go to London. I want you to like what I pick, too, and I value your opinion."

"I'll be there, don't worry. We can make a day of it, have an early dinner and go to the theatre afterwards, if you like."

"That sounds wonderful. I would love to."

"Excellent! We'll have a day off together and I'll drive us into the city. It's only ten miles from here and we'll need the car to save carrying everything with us."

Grace placed her arms around Roland's neck and drew him down for a deep kiss. "I'll thank you properly, but that's for now."

"I like the sound of that."

"You're so kind, Roland. I still can't believe that I'm really here with you, but I know that I am and that I love you more than I can put into words."

"Your love is all I need, Grace. Now drink your tea and shall we go for that walk?"

"Yes, darling; I'd like that."

They set out a few minutes later, her arm linked through his as they were the sole residents within the curtilage of the park, the Northumberland family only being in residence in the main house at certain times of the year. It was still warm, but not overly hot, and the evening sun had just commenced its trip down towards the horizon. The path, through the trees to the ornamental lake, was mostly clear, but in places the shrubbery had become untidy, although not to a degree where it impeded their progress. Eventually the path opened out onto a gravelled area which surrounded a pretty, water-lily laden, expanse of water, fringed by willows and bulrushes. Off to one side was a walled area, which surrounded what had clearly once been a little herb garden, but was now hopelessly overgrown.

"If we come again, I can take cuttings from some of these, Roland, and we can plant them in our little patch of garden. Look, there's rosemary, lavender, tarragon, dill, sage and sorrel. They'll be perfect for cooking. There must be others, but I can make these out quite easily."

"Bring a trug with you next time. I spotted one in the kitchen cupboard under the sink."

"Perfect! Let's come here again while the weather holds, but for now, could we walk round the lake?"

"It'll be my pleasure, my love."

Grace smiled at him, her radiant face a picture of happiness. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, sending a tiny tremor of longing through her. Together they started to walk round the lake. It wasn't overly large and fortunately the warmer weather had dried out the areas, which had a tendency to bogginess, particularly near the bulrushes. Roland felt the peace, which had eluded him since his return from France. He knew the reason why, as he looked down at Grace, whose face was turned towards the evening sun, which bathed her skin in a golden glow. He stopped their progress just by a deeply dipping willow tree. Stepping beneath it, they were hidden from view by its heavy osier fringe, which formed a protective circle around them. Roland drew Grace into his arms. She looked up at him and then moved her gaze down to his lips, her own gently curving into a smile, as she waited patiently for him to kiss her. She did not have to wait long. His mouth moved over hers, with a sense of assurance, and she responded to him with nothing held back, as his hands wandered over her body at will.

"Oh Grace, my darling," he said as they broke the caress, "I can scarcely keep my feelings under control. I thought myself too old to be consumed by love, but you have shown me that I'm not. I want you, my love. Say you'll be mine tonight."

"You know I shall be. Please don't think ill of me for saying that I want you, too. I know a "lady" is not supposed to acknowledge such thoughts, let alone feel them, but I long for you to touch me and make love to me," she said, nuzzling his neck, and making him draw an uneven breath in response, as he replied,

"And I hunger for you, sweetheart, but my love for you was always there, waiting for the right circumstances, and all it took, for you to capture my heart forever, was to acknowledge it."

"For six long years I've loved you, Roland, and now I cannot imagine a day without you. Shall we go back and I'll make us something to eat?"

"If yesterday evening is a measure, I think we'll need our strength," he replied, looking at her with naked want.

Grace felt the colour rise to her cheeks, but she was as desirous of him, as he of her. She raised her mouth to his, once more, and he kissed her deeply, until she thought her legs would buckle, as around them the willow rustled in the breeze, shivering silver green in the evening light.

_**Please review if you are able to. Your comments mean a lot to me. X**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_I'm updating with a second chapter this weekend. I hope I'll get another chance to write more before the end of the week, but my schedule is shifting with monotonous regularity at the moment. Apologies and thanks for remaining loyal to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think. XX_**

Their walk back took longer than planned. Every few steps, they had shared either an embrace or a kiss until Grace's lips were swollen and reddened from the impact of his mouth on hers. She did not mind as his longing for her brought her joy beyond her widest imaginings. When she said that she would like to stop, for a moment or two, to take in the increasingly golden vista spread out before them, Roland had stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close against his chest, holding her in shared silence and complete harmony. She had turned her head to look back at him and he had bent his own to kiss her neck and murmur words which brought the colour rushing to her cheeks.

Once back at the house, they went through to the kitchen, where Grace took an apron from the hook behind the door, fastening it and moving to the cold store, where she found all the staples for a salad; vegetables, cooked ham, chicken, eggs, butter and a freshly sliced slaw of white cabbage and carrot together with a dish of homemade mayonnaise all safely hidden beneath muslin covers. Roland moved to the earthenware bread crock, where he found freshly baked bread to go with their repast and, leaning back against the dresser, enjoyed the novel sensation of watching her start to prepare their meal. Mrs Anderson had, as Roland had predicted, left more than sufficient food for them. Grace washed the salad leaves and placed them in a colander, while she sliced tomato, cucumber, and celery. She peeled the cooked beetroot and diced it placing it in a separate bowl. Then she turned to the meat, slicing and placing it on a platter with some hardboiled egg. Roland smiled as he thought of the times he had imagined her looking after him and here she was doing exactly that, albeit with some help from the indomitable Mrs Anderson.

"Shall we eat in here or the dining room?" he asked

"I'm happy in here, if you are. There's only the two of us and we've eaten in far worse conditions," Grace replied with a smile.

The warmth of his smile matched hers, as he said, "True, but we were together then, as now. Somehow that made all the difference."

He removed some cutlery and a couple of place mats from the dresser draw and started to set two places for them.

"I'll do that, darling," Grace said, reaching across to take the cutlery.

He refused to part with it saying, "No, you're doing the meal, I want to help you; we've always helped each other. Remember how you used to assist in surgery?"

"Yes, although I'd rather forget why we had to do that." The darker memories of their shared wartime experiences momentarily clouded her features as she turned back to preparing their food.

"I know; they were the worst of days in so many ways and yet they brought us together."

"And I'm glad of it," she said, looking at him intently and her tone conveying her sincerity.

He stopped what he was doing, came to her and held her in his arms, before planting a kiss on her forehead. A minute later they were ready to eat so they took their places, at the corner to one end of the kitchen table, knees touching beneath as if they could not bear to break contact for a second. Roland had opened a bottle of wine and they savoured its light, crisp bite as they ate, conversation flowing easily, punctuated by a hand clasp or loving glance.

"Would you like fruit to finish?" she asked.

"Sweetheart, I've had enough. I'll help you clear away and then let's go and sit in the drawing room."

They worked seamlessly, as only people with a deep connection to one another can do, and left the kitchen pristine for Mrs Anderson to use the next day. Grace had made coffee, which she brought through, and they sat next to one another on the little sofa, in the fading light of the evening sun, sipping the steaming beverage. Roland added a generous cognac to two balloon glasses, one of which he passed to Grace. She swirled the fragrant liquid around the massive glass before savouring its fine, smooth flavour, their eyes briefly meeting as she tilted her head back. The effect was instant. She placed her glass back on the table, and moving languidly to rest her head on his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. He dropped a kiss on her hair and, placing his glass to one side, he embraced her and held her close.

They sat quietly, lost in each other, as the moon rose and twilight dimmed the room. Roland bent his head and nuzzled Grace's cheek. She turned her face to his and searched for his mouth, which was quick to find hers. He kissed her and deepened the contact, enjoying the tiny sounds which she made as his actions inflamed her. She slid her leg between his and he pressed his thighs around hers.

"Time for bed?" he asked.

"I'm not tired yet," she answered.

"Good because neither am I."

They disentangled their limbs and Roland took Grace's hands, easing her up and kissing her again.

"Let me make love to you," he murmured.

Her answer was in the way her body seemed to melt into his.

He turned and led her back into the hall, where his kisses told her how much he loved her. They went up together and entered the bedroom hand in hand. The windows were open and the room was perfumed by the honeysuckle outside. Their eyes locked in the rising moonlight, as they helped each other to undress. Buttons slipped through holes as her dress and his shirt slipped to the floor. He watched her breasts rise and fall, straining against her undergarments, and felt his body stiffen, as he ran his hands over her silk covered hips, stroking down to her thighs, making her sigh with longing. Her answer was to run her fingers beneath the fastening of his trousers, freeing him from them and his undershorts, pushing them down to the ground. She knelt at his feet to help him step out of the remainder of his clothes. As she did so, he touched her hair and she looked up, seeing the evidence of his need rising proudly before her. His hands continued to rest against her hair as she loved him, sending him almost wild with desire. Only when she felt him move to still her, did she stop, trembling with rising passion.

"Grace, oh my darling, my beloved, I'll never last and I want to make love to you so badly."

She released him with a final kiss and, taking his hands, rose from her position at his feet. He stroked her face and, moving in, he kissed her with a heat he had never thought to possess, and which she alone could generate. She felt him hard against her, as he pressed her against his length, which was encased in the silk of her slip. The oyster silk moulded itself to every curve of her body. He could see the pulse hammering at the base of her throat, and the taut points of her nipples strain against the delicate fabric restraining them. Roland rained kisses on her neck, down over her collarbone, pushing aside the silk, cupping her breast in his hand, massaging it and taking it in his mouth, drawing the nipple to a sensitised point. Grace pressed into his mouth, wanting him, her only words, "Love me" spoken into the darkness which surrounded them.

He lay with her on the bed, their legs entwined once more as he moved to make love to her. This time he entered her slowly, taking her with him on a journey with one end point. He made love to her with measured thrusts, feeling his excitement mounting, kissing her passionately and breathing her name into each caress, which he shared with her, as he sought only her pleasure. She clung to him, her body rising and falling with his, whilst he marked her as his, her hips moving to meet his as she opened herself to him, wanting him deeper inside her than ever before, his alone for the taking. Her hands clutched at him, as she felt the sweeping wave of her climax hit her, hard and intense, and she cried his name into the night, pulsing around him as he joined her a few seconds later, feeling him move inside her as she held him, knowing that they belonged together. Her kisses were punctuated with words of love for him, and he revelled in the woman he held in his arms, and in whom he had just emptied his entire being. He held her head between his hands and kissed her back murmuring "I love you" over and over again until he finally rested against her and she enfolded him in her arms, rolling until they faced one another and the warmth of the night enveloped them, still loosely joined. How long they lay like this neither could say.

They did not speak; no words were necessary and nor would mere words suffice to express the whirl of emotions, which they had experienced together. Grace's body was sensitised to an almost unbearable level. All she wanted was him here in her arms; and she had him. Their limbs intertwined in a loose tangle with the bed sheets, as their hands stroked, and lips caressed, anywhere they could reach. She marvelled at the strength of her response to him, the delicious, eroticism of the climb towards the pinnacle of physical release, which swept all before it and made her lose control. She felt no loss of self though. What he wanted was the same as her desires; she had no needs beyond his presence in her life and his body hard, and lodged deep, within hers. Her lips parted beneath his, as his tongue slowly and deliberately explored the smooth depths offered to it, and danced a pavane of pleasure with hers. The shared sounds of rising passion vibrated through their mouths, subtly adding to the pulsing sensation in their loins. His fingers forged an ever widening tender passage into her and she moved against his hand, moaning with pent-up desire, her body undulating and climbing steadily towards the peak once more. She took him in her hand and, running her fingers lightly along him, heard, and felt, his response to her as the breath hissed from his lungs. His name floated in the still of the night as she gave herself up to the movement of his hands, which ran a sensuous path as his thumb circled her and made her cry out with delight. He rolled her so she was lying on her stomach and, lifting her hips from the bed, he encouraged her to kneel, all the time stimulating her.

"Roland, please, now."

He positioned himself behind her and eased into her, giving her time to adjust, his movement gentle and incremental, enabling her to feel the same cycle of pleasure, which she was giving him. Leaning forward his hands cupped her breasts which fell into his hands like ripe fruit, allowing him to stimulate them while he made love to her, until her body started to move more erratically. His mouth was on her back and his tongue traced the length of her spine, making her tingle and push back against him. He had never felt such desire before, but he refused to give in because he wanted her to climax with him. Her head hung forward, enjoying his hands on her and the pressure deep inside. He could hear her pant as she moved her hips to meet his thrusts and felt the slight tightening of her grip on him. The curved outline of her body, moving with him, set his blood pulsing and she seized the sheet, her fingers grasping and kneading it. He moved his hands to offer more intimate stimulation and was met by a gasp of pleasure and a quickening of her movement as her grip on him tightened. He knew she was close and, deepening his reach into her, he told her what she did to him. Her hand pressed against his as he pleasured her and suddenly she was there, legs buckling as her body quivered and she pulled him deeper into her. He held her against him as he thrust several times in quick, deep succession and the dam broke within her. They collapsed together, his arms around her and his length still pulsing and leaping. The sounds she made were ones of pure satisfaction and she reached behind to stroke his thighs, still lodged between her legs.

"Oh, my Grace, I've such love for you, only ever you, my darling."

The night air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the wisteria leaves framing the window rustled in the warm breeze beyond. Grace moved and, wrapping his arms around her, she nestled against him.

"I've never been so happy, so content. I love you, my own darling."

She kissed his hands, the scent of her desire for him clinging to them, as she snuggled safe and warm in her lover's arms. He held her close, overwhelmed by a need to protect her, he knew not from what.

"You're mine, Grace, my woman, my everything. I can't think or sleep for want of you."

"Nor I, Roland, but we must try, and I think we may just succeed now, at least for a few hours."

He buried his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of the woman who set his soul on fire, at peace with himself and the world.

**_Your reviews are always so helpful and supportive. Thank you so much, in advance. XX_**


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